


Natural Disasters

by KayDiggsWriting



Series: What Happens In France... [17]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arguing, Co-Parenting, Communication Failure, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Frustration, Hamgelica, OBC - Freeform, Painting, Past Relationship(s), Unresolved, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:20:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21788926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayDiggsWriting/pseuds/KayDiggsWriting
Summary: Complicated, Adult relationships are . . . well . . . complicated.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Angelica Schuyler
Series: What Happens In France... [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/930050
Comments: 14
Kudos: 81





	Natural Disasters

**Author's Note:**

> You don't want to hear my excuses for why this took so long. But I will give you one. My laptop stopped working and typing long things on my phone makes me want to jump off a cliff. I'm using my friend's right now. This took ridiculously long to write and it probably won't hold up to any of your explanations after four months of waiting. But I still hope you like it.  
> As always, my apologies ahead of time for spelling and grammar errors. Proof reading isn't my forte.

_ She was like a painting. Colorful. Beautiful. Elegant. But not to be tampered with. The irony of her being an artist was not lost on him. He'd seen some of her work. She wasn't one of those modest creators who pretended to be shy about showing their creations. He liked that about her. She loved doing what she did and she knew she was damned good at it too. Though it wasn't without effort. There was sweat between her brows and pains in her wrist once the canvas was painted to completion. It was mesmerizing to watch. She was mesmerizing to watch. _

_ Which was why he was watching her now. _

_ They were supposed to be on some kind of romantic walk. And they were... for the first five minutes. Until Alexander realized the woman in front of him was more enticing to look at than any of the Paris scenery. Thus their story book sight seeing became Alexander purposely trailing a few feet behind just to watch Angelica walk. She didn't appear to mind too much. Or any at all really. Her frantic pointing or excited squeals didn't deter at her date's lack of interest in the actual date. _

_ Alexander wondered if taking a picture of her would be considered creepy. Though in a way he thought she might be flattered. Angelica understood the importance of capturing beauty. And in that moment, she was the definition of the word. In every moment she was the definition of the word. _

_ He thought he'd seen her in her most beautiful form the night they met at the bar. When she was done up to catch eyes. From her perfectly curled hair to her ridiculously sharp heels. But he'd been wrong and for the first time in his life he was happy about that. Angelica had many forms and all of them were more beautiful than the other, if that made any sense. Her night on the town look was the most beautiful... Until the night on the town was over and she was wiping off her makeup and putting on her baggy pajamas. Then it was her ready for bed look that was the most beautiful... That was until he woke up in the morning and saw her sleeping with her hair a mess, mouth open and her face scrunched up at whatever distasteful dream her mind was providing. That was when her sleeping look was the most beautiful... Well it was until she'd get up and get ready for the day. Wearing some stylish French fashion and nothing on her face but mascara and lip-gloss. That's when her everyday look was the most beautiful one. _

_ Right now her Saturday date night look was the most beautiful. Her windblown hair with her dark makeup and her bright red lips. Her all black attire which would have been out of character for her, had it not been for the neon pink peacoat she was wearing over it. There was a child like wonder in the way she practically skipped down the sidewalks and touched things the vendors would usually scold people for. A flower here. A scarf here. _

_ Alexander might be in love. _

_ Though he wasn't going to tell her that. Not after only a month of dates. No, he'd wait a little while. Maybe a couple more months. Or a few more weeks. When was an appropriate time to tell someone they might be your soulmate? And then, three years from now when they were married with children, he'd tell her how he knew he loved her immediately but was too afraid to say it out loud. Well, out loud to her. He'd let the words slip to his best friend the night he came home from their third date. _

_ "Alexander, what are you doing all the way back there?" There was not whining or complaint in her voice. Just genuine confusion. _

_ So it wasn't that Angelica didn't mind him trailing behind, she hadn't noticed. _

_ "I just... got distracted." _

_ The confusion on her face relaxed into an awed smile. "It is beautiful, isn't it?" She looked up at the sky that was beginning to darken above them. Admiring the clear view of the stars that were burning from lightyears away. _

_ Alexander stared at the new view he had of the smooth curve of her neck. "It is." _

_ "Alexander," Angelica sounded like she was on the verge of laughter. "You'd better not be looking at me instead of this view. Because if you are that was the corniest, most cliche thing you could have said." She lowered her gaze to meet his. The intensity in his eyes made her swallow. "Stop looking at me like that." _

_ He didn't. "Like what?" _

_ "Like you might-" Angelica pressed her lips together. She looked away first. Breaking eye contact. Minimizing the moment. Her expression was different when she looked at him again. Less warmth and more heat. "Like you might want to end this date a little early." _

_ And it wasn't where Alexander thought the conversation was headed. But he'd take it. _

_ They could wait until later to talk about how he loved her more than he ever loved anyone else. _

She was beautiful like this. Serious. Focused. Brilliant. 

This was her forte. Her element. Alexander couldn't believe she'd let herself shut this part out for so long. It was his fault. If he hadn't shut her down after she told him that she loved him, they would still be together. They would have raised Philip together. Maybe in France. More likely in the States since that's where her family lived. Then Angelica would’ve had more free time. More opportunities to focus on her work. She wouldn't have had to work full time just to come home and be a full time single parent. Alexander would have been there to feed or bathe or rock their son to sleep. Giving angelica time to herself. Time to be an artist instead of just a mommy.

But he wasn't there. They didn't remain together. He couldn't go back in time to adjust the past. But Alexander would be damned if he wasn't going to make it his business to better the future.

Starting with this.

Angelica stood in front of her blank canvas with an almost desperate look on her face. If Alexander didn't know her so well he wouldn't be able to see it under the concentration. She wanted to do this as badly as he wanted her to do it. More so. Still she was just as afraid to try. Which was understandable. It'd been three years since she picked up a brush in any real capacity.

What she did for work didn't count. It was an insult to her talent to be stuck in a room teaching school children what complimentary colors was. It was an honorable job; teaching. He wasn't knocking her choice of career. Angelica was a natural born nurturer. It made sense that she would ultimately choose to work with kids. What didn't make sense was her limiting her painting to what she taught the children. Her hands deserved to paint more than cartoon trees and silly smiling faces. 

Alex was going to make sure that happened.

Angelica let out a frustrated breath and placed her palette down. 

"I don't need you to sit there watching me."

"But I'm your model."

"I don't have to stare at you to paint your portrait. I know your face from memory." She somehow managed to make what could have been a compliment, sound like an offhand insult.

Angelica sat on the edge of her bed and flopped back dramatically. The sweatshirt she was wearing rose above her bellybutton. Alexander allowed himself to look for exactly one second. Still, Angelica caught his glance at her exposed skin. She didn't bother covering it. It was just her belly for Christ's sake. But she did raise a questioning eyebrow. 

Instead of explaining himself, Alexander looked at the easel he brought in earlier. Things had been weird for them since last week. The night Alexander dubbed,  _the kitchen_ _incident_.  They didn't talk about her coming home and trying to pounce on him. Never so much as mentioned her stripping out of her clothes. And the kiss was basically Voldemort. Not to be named.

At first he wasn't sure if she even remembered anything that happened that night. She was beyond intoxicated when she walked in. So much so that she didn't wake up until five in the afternoon the next day. Alexander of course took over with daddy duties and let her recover. It wasn't until the day after that she was back to her normal self. She'd gotten up early with Pip since she hadn’t been able to the previous morning. Their footsteps and whispering woke him up as they were passing to get to the kitchen. 

The sound of him stretching awake caught the pair's attention. Angelica looked between him and the sofa enough times for it to seem cartoonish. Then she was ducking her face and racing into the kitchen quicker than he could greet them with good mornings. The chagrin on her face and the refusal to make eye contact was proof enough that she remembered  something.  Even if she was a little fuzzy on the details, she knew something happened between them that night. Something that she was clearly ashamed to face.

Later when their son was taking his midday nap, he tried to talk to her about it. To apologize for allowing the kiss to even happen. But Angelica shut him down immediately. Thus, making it clear that the incident would remain in their memories only. 

And remain in Alexander's memories it had. Constantly. 

"Maybe you're thinking to hard about this, Angel." 

She didn't correct the nickname. She stopped doing that a while ago. "What do you mean? I should just not concentrate on my work and risk it coming out terribly?"

"Of course that's not what I mean." He sat on the bed beside where she was laying. Leaving a foot of space between them for her comfort. "I'm saying maybe concentrating too much can also make it come out terribly." He looked towards the empty canvas. "Or not come out at all."

"God, I know." She groaned. Lifting her head from the bed and moving so that it was now resting in Alexander's lap. This was an olive branch. She was breaking the contact barrier and he didn't quite know how to respond. If he did too much in return she might be scared away. If he did nothing she would think he didn't want that closeness. "I don't know what to do. For the first time in my life the brush is intimidating."

His hand hovered over her head. He closed it into a fist and opened it again. Debating. Hesitating. Worrying. Wanting. Maybe it was best to just let all physical contact be initiated by her for a little while. Until he was sure he was being offered the freedom to return it. But then Angelica sighed again. This time it was less desperate and more sad. The need to comfort surged through him. He dropped his hand into her hair. Just letting it rest in her curls for a second. Seeing how she would react. Testing the waters. When she didn't shy away from the contact, his fingers began carding into her strands. Her head weighed down a little heavier on his thighs as her body relaxed into it. 

"It's okay to feel intimidated. But it's not okay to let that stop you from doing what you know you can do."

They were quiet after that. Alexander comforted her and Angelica let herself be comforted. His fingers became bolder. Slightly massaging her scalp now as he ran them through the dark locks of hair. Even going so far as to let his fingertips graze the skin around her hairline every so often. This felt more intimate than the kiss. He wondered if it would just be added to the things she liked to pretend didn't happen between them. If this would be just another pathetic scene that played when he closed his eyes to sleep at night. 

"That feels  so  good." Angelica practically purred. Alexander paused. "Don't stop." She placed her hand over his. Moving them together. 

“Angel.” He pulled his hand away gently. Angelica opened her eyes to look into his. “What are we doing?” 

“We’re just taking a break. Don’t worry we’ll get back to the painting soon.”

He couldn’t tell if she was purposely misunderstanding him. But the confusion on her face looked too genuine to fake. His eyebrows drew together in something akin to frustration. Was she really that disconnected from the entire situation? She managed to place it to the furthest corner of her mind while his internal struggle was never ending.

“I’m not talking about the painting.”

A flicker of understanding lit in her eyes. Just as quickly as he saw it, she was sitting up, breaking their contact. Taking the steps warranted to get her across the room. As far away from him as possible. Like a rabbit from a dog.

“We should get this over with.” She picked up the paintbrush. “We have to pick Philip up soon.”

Alexander stood. “Your parents said he could stay as long as he wanted to.”

“Yeah.” She nodded, trying to think of something else. Another stone to place into the wall keeping them apart. “But I miss him already.”

“Angel, cut it out.” He approached her. Suddenly feeling bolder. “We need to talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” She dipped the brush into some red paint. She trained her eyes on the curved line she was now placing on the otherwise empty canvas.

At least she was finally painting. And all it took was the threat of talking about her feeling.

“Nothing to talk about ?” He scoffed. “You came home drunk and tried to screw me on the couch! And then in the kitchen!”

“Keyword, Alexander!” She shot back. Still not looking at him. “ Drunk .” Her stoke with the brush was more violent this time.

“Oh don’t you dare try to belittle this entire thing.”

He’d forgotten how good she was at that. But if that was her only defense, she must have forgotten how good his argumentative skills were. It seems they were both currently in the business of underestimating each other.

“I’m not belittling it.” She shrugged. But it was tense. Her shoulders didn’t really fall back down. “This just happens to be something that  is little.” She dipped the tip of the brush in brown. Mixing it on the page. “I was drunk and I kissed you. Big deal. That’s hardly something to call the new about.”

“Oh stop it! You have real feelings for me. Drunk or sober. You know you do. I know you do. And we both know I’m in love with you. So what are we doing? Why are we wasting time?”

“What is your rush?” Angelica snapped. Finally giving in and looking at him. She didn’t look mad. Curious. Frustrated. But not angry. “If we know we care about each other and we both want this eventually, why are you rushing it? It’s going to happen. Now just isn’t the right time.” She sat the paintbrush down for the umpteenth time that day. “I can’t do this right now. I can’t concentrate on painting and talk about all this shit you want to talk about. I can’t!”

“We’ve already wasted thee years-“

“And whose fault is that, Alexander?” This time she was obviously angry. 

The sharp tone she used put Alexander on edge. Defensive walls began building around him. The arguments for why she was wrong were piling up in his mind like ammunition. He could see a similar process happening with the woman in front of him. Angelica was preparing for battle. She wanted a battle. Because if they were arguing they would no longer be discussing their feelings. Another war of words would only lead to hits below the belt and regrettable insults. 

Giving Angelica a reason to avoid talking to him for a few days more. Maybe longer if he said something terrible enough. In all the ways she'd changed since they were separated, that was not one of them. It was a common defense mechanism for her. One his temper gave him no choice but to respond to. Usually. But not now. Right now talking this out like adults was more important than winning another pointless argument. So Alexander called off his soldiers. There would be no battle today.

"It's my fault." He admitted with his head hung. Though he could name six different ways off the top of his head they shared the blame pretty equally. 

That surprised her. "W-What?" Her lips clamped together. The wheels were turning in her head. He'd won without fighting. 

"It's my fault. I fucked up. I made you run. I ruined your life-"

"Do not patronize me, Alexander!" She pointed a finger in his face. Misreading him yet again.

"Angel I-"

"And stop calling me that!"

So they were back to that then. Fine! Why was he even trying at this point if she was just going to tackle them yards back for every step forward they took?

"Fine!" He threw both hands in the air. "Angelica, _fine_. If you want-" He took a deep breath. "You're just so-" His hands hovered in front of him. Like he was choking the air. "Fine." Without another word, or even completing any of the sentences he started, Alexander walked out of the room.

He was surprised to see Angelica follow him down the hall and then into the living room. Why did he have to love her so much? Why did she have to be so frustrating to deal with? He needed a break. And clearly so did she. Maybe if she was alone she would manage to get some painting done. In France she would paint the most when she was alone in either of their apartments. Leaving for a while would be killing two birds with one stone. He lifted up a pair of his sneakers by the door. Walking them over to the couch so he could sit down and put them on.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to hang out with Laf for a bit." He stuffed his foot into the shoe aggressively. Bending the back of it in the process. "When you pick up Pip, tell him I'll be back before dinner."

"Before dinner?" Angelica repeated. Clearly not pleased. "It's not even twelve yet."

"I know." The other shoe went on easier.

She walked deeper into the living room. Having previously been standing near the wall with her arms crossed; watching from a distance. "So why are you leaving for hours?" Angelica stood over him as he tied his shoe. "I thought you were going to help me with painting and stuff."

Alexander heaved himself off the couch. More exerted mentally than physically. Angelica lifted her head to look at him from his new position. 

"I love you, Angelica." He said without fanfare. "I don't see myself stopping any time soon." He shrugged. "Or ever. But I'm not going to wait around while you throw me off with all these mixed signals. So I'm going to give you some space. I understand that I may be crowding you a bit. We're temporarily living in the same house. We spend all of our time outside of work together with Philip. You don't have the time to think. You need space. I'm giving it to you." For emphasis Alexander side stepped her. Putting literally space between them. 

She laughed. The sound was weak and dry. "You're being ridiculous."

"Am I?"

"You are!" Angelica dropped her arms to her sides. "I don't need _space._ I need time. We hadn't seen each other in years. I raised your child by myself. Then you pop up again and you're _dating my sister._ Now i'm supposed to just jump back into a relationship with you because you two broke up a couple of months ago?"

Well when she put it like that....

"That's not what I'm saying."

But she wasn't in the mood to let him talk. She continued over him. "Newsflash, Alexander! I'm in love with you too, you fucking idiot! But I am _not_ going to pretend this is some fairy tale happy ending just because of it. So if you want to leave, if you want to be bratty and distance yourself, fine! Go ahead and go." She pushed him towards the door but he barely moved. "But don't think I'm going to beg for you to come back."

They stood there glaring at each other. Each one waiting for the other to give in and break the silence with resigned words. But they were too much alike. Both stubborn. Both forces to be reckoned with. A tornado wasn't going to stop spinning just because a volcano erupted in front of it. 

"Tell Pip I'll be back before dinner."

Angelica would have preferred he slam the door. The quiet click was twice as unsettling. And much more final. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments? Kudos? I literally live for both.  
> Did you like it? Did you hate it? Do you wish these two would just get their shit together already?  
> Thank you for even reading it after it took me months for update. I hope you're still even interested in the story.  
> Until next time (hopefully sooner).


End file.
